


Glass path

by WhiteSky1999



Series: Laven Week 2k17 [2]
Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Mostly Fluff, and some angst, idc if it can't be in canon i just want them to be happy, lavi makes a decision, the war is over, they are so messed up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 22:33:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11792868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiteSky1999/pseuds/WhiteSky1999
Summary: The war is over and Lavi makes one decision that changes his life. But, at the same time, not really, because ‘Lavi’ had been like that for a long time, helplessly following Allen’s light.Laven week 2k17: 13th- Ten of Hearts | joy, completion, resolution





	Glass path

It was over.

The war was over.

Lavi had been in a coma, near death, the usual for them. He’d needed some time to recover, some months, in which he had been a nervous wreck and he was sorry, but he’d been so worried.

Allen had gone.

Allen had woken up before him, he had stolen some bandages and crutches and he had gone when nobody was looking. Lavi wondered why the hell they had left him alone knowing how he was, but then he had gone back to his hysterics and panic. He didn’t know how injured Allen was, but he _knew_ who he had been fighting, goddammit, he knew _who_ he had been fighting.

Some days later, when he had managed to heave his injured body up and grab the damn crutches himself and keep his Innocence (now a red colour that he didn’t even _want to think about_ ), he realized that Allen was hiding. He was hiding from everything, like a wounded animal. That only made him search faster, asking all kinds of people, eye panicked in a way that it would have been prohibited for someone like him some months ago (months? Had it been months or years?).

His injuries ached and slowed him down, but he needed to talk to Allen. He needed to know he was okay, because if Allen wasn’t okay, his will would crumble into dust and he would be lost in the darkness. And he needed to know what to do. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do, with Bookman dead and a crystal type Innocence by his side.

It must have been luck or some kind of miracle that he found the white-haired boy.

He found him curled up against a tree, in a forest in the middle of nowhere, fast asleep and with a heavy coat wrapped around him. Lavi had only made him out in the darkness because of his white hair, which caught the soft moonlight. He sighed in relief and dived for him, sight blurry because of the tears that rolled down his cheeks, hands trembling and arms wide open.

When he hugged him, Allen jumped, startled and arms and body moving fast to defend. But Lavi only held him tighter, shaking and choking down sobs, legs aching. He was so glad he was okay… well, not okay, definitely not okay, but alive, because that meant that he still could recover and oh, he was going to help him, he was going to see that light come back in his eyes, see that genuine smile, not just the mask, and he was going to stay by his side, even if it meant that Allen would have to travel with him if he was the new Bookman.

“…Lavi?” called Allen and Lavi felt his heart that had put him through so much throb. The boy coughed, a dry cough that seemed painful, and his voice shook, raspy and low, “what are you doing here?”

“I was looking for you, idiot,” he said with some difficulty. Allen moved a little and Lavi felt his arms wrap around him with just a bit of hesitation.

“Why?” asked Allen and Lavi found himself raising his head and leaning away, brow furrowed and eye blazing.

“Why?!” he shouted and he grimaced when he saw Allen flinch. “You disappeared, Allen. You were injured and you just disappeared without leaving a trace. We… I was so worried, about you. Especially because of what you’d-.”

“Don’t,” interrupted Allen and he whipped his head to the side, bangs shadowing his eyes. Lavi could make out black splotches on the tips of his hair, and the long mane of messy white hair that he’d had was gone. He flinched himself.

“Sorry,” he mumbled and hugged him tight again, running his bandaged fingers through his hair. It was dirty; he picked a few leafs from it. He could feel Allen shaking, but he didn’t know if he was crying, he was silent.

A few minutes later, when both of them had calmed down, they separated, but not by much. Lavi remained by his side, legs flush against the other’s. He adjusted Allen’s maroon scarf around his neck and wondered what day and what month it was. He looked through the corner of his eye to Allen, staring at his hair, which was noticeably longer on one side than the other, black tips sticking out at random directions.

“I needed time to think,” murmured Allen then and when Lavi tilted his head to see his face, the boy lowered it. “I needed to think things through. Alone. I couldn’t do that with everyone worrying over me.”

Lavi hummed. He was conflicted. He knew he had to be happy; they’d survived the war, that war that had been raging for years, centuries, millenniums. However, he was a Bookman. He’d seen plenty of wars ending and he’d seen the soldiers partying and reuniting with their families, hugging and laughing. He couldn’t do the same. Too many loses. And Allen, the light that once illuminated him and gave him hope that, hey, maybe you can be a Bookman that can _feel_ , is depressed, sitting at his side, shaking and with glassy eyes that broke his heart that wasn’t even supposed to exist.

“What do you want to do?” asked Allen and it took Lavi some seconds to recognize it as his voice. He had never heard it sound that raspy.

“I dunno,” he answered, because Allen deserved to know the truth and maybe it would help him to know that he wasn’t the only one lost. The boy (Lavi was pretty sure that the best term should be ‘man’ now) moved around and sighed, raising his head to look at the stars.

“I’ve been thinking,” he started and Lavi hummed to encourage him to continue. “I want to travel the world, you know. Not like, with Master or on missions or on the run,” Allen flinched. ”Actually travel. Go sightseeing. Try all the food I can.”

“Food. Yeah, of course you’d go for the food,” said Lavi and he laughed. He felt a rush of joy course through his body when he saw Allen’s tiny smile. His eyes still looked tired and sad, but that little smile that curved his chapped lips gave him the hope that only Allen could give him.

“Well, what would you want to go for?” inquired Allen and Lavi made a show that wasn’t as convincing as it had once been and raised his arms, careful with the tree and Allen and the bags around them.

“I’d go see all the historical ruins around the world,” he said with a wide smile. Allen perked up, eyes more surprised than sad, and Lavi cheered silently in his head. “I’ve seen some of them with Bookman,” he tried to keep those awful memories at bay, no, _no, no time for a panic attack now_ , “but I want to see all of them.”

“I was expecting something more related to sleep,” said Allen and Lavi lowered his arms, pressing his back against the rough trunk of the tree. He used Allen’s voice, the cold air on his face, the texture of the bark on his back and the sound of the wind ruffling the leafs to anchor himself on the present and not lose himself in the memories he despised. “Like, finding the best place to sleep 12 hours or the best place to stay reading.”

“Oh c’mon,” laughed Lavi and he swallowed. Allen’s right hand was on his arm in a moment, eyes grim again and white and black hair messy because of the cold wind. The redhead sighed and closed his eye.

“We’re pretty messed up, aren’t we?” mumbled Allen and Lavi couldn’t help but to agree silently. “We finished our job. I… ended the war…”

“And I recorded it successfully until the end,” chuckled Lavi, but it was humourless, forced, dry. And the boy by his side knew it perfectly, because his fingers were digging on his arm now and he wanted to flinch and rip them off, but he was too tired to try.

There was a pause, in which Lavi relaxed his shoulders and sighed again. A few seconds after that, Allen stopped staring at him and removed his hand from his arm, tucking it in the coat.

Lavi wanted to say something, but he knew it wouldn’t be worth it, just a failed attempt at a comment that should be left unsaid. He drummed his gloveless fingers on his leg, nodding off from time to time, mind in peace for the first time in the last moths, just feeling Allen’s warmth against his side.

“You know,” he said moments later and Allen grunted, raising his head from his knees where he’d been dozing off. Lavi was staring at the starts now, looking out for constellations and planets and letting his mind wander to the plenty of stories he memorized years ago. “We could travel together. At least, for a little while.”

What the hell was he doing?

“Are you serious?” asked Allen and Lavi had some difficulty to understand him because of his thick accent that only came out when he was sleepy, angry or drunk.

He should tell him that he was kidding, that it was just a stupid idea that would never work, because, please, he was _the_ Bookman, he needed to move, he needed to go to the next event to record, leave ‘Lavi’ behind.

“Of course,” he said and he smiled and it _hurt_ , because it was real and he _hated_ it. “Or do you have anything better to do, maybe?”

Allen was his last hope, if he said no…

“In that case,” said Allen and the smile he gave him was so precious, so blinding, that Lavi felt his heart melt and reach out, starved and holding on for dear life onto ‘Lavi’, “It’ll be great, to travel together.”

And Lavi smiled back, because that was what ‘Lavi’ did and he had become ‘Lavi’, he had internalized it so much, that he could only be ‘Lavi’.

“I’ll still be recording,” said the redhead, voice firm and determined. Allen looked at him with a peaceful smile and his eyes, _oh_ , his eyes were shining. “But I think I’ve had enough. I don’t want to record more wars. No more deaths, no more fights.”

“You can record gastronomic traditions,” said Allen, tilting his head so that he could look Lavi in the eye. The redhead laughed, more so when their noses touched and Allen rolled his silver eyes, smile still present on his lips. “It’s an important part of a place’s culture. I’m sure there aren’t a lot of records on them.”

“The best part is that you’re right,” laughed Lavi and his shoulders shook so much, when was the last time he’d had laughed that much?

When he stopped laughing his shoulders and face hurt and he let his head fall on Allen’s shoulder. Allen was always so warm, so inviting, but at the same time detached, as if he was afraid that something would happen. It was different from his rejection of his feelings and emotions.

He sighed and raised his head and bumped his nose with Allen’s again and then he froze. Because Allen’s eyes were so close and he could see the blue specks on them and the faint freckles on his cheeks and nose that usually were more noticeable when he had been out in the sun and his white eyelashes and his severed eyebrow. And he knew, oh, he knew he was in so deep.

So, when they leaned towards each other, noses brushing again and warm breaths colliding with the other’s skin, Lavi wasn’t that surprised when they didn’t stop and their lips brushed against the other’s before settling there. Lavi could feel every unhealed cut and every place where Allen had bit on his lips. But, they were so warm and soft and Lavi was sure that he was melting or exploding or a mix of the two, because there was no way that anyone could feel so many emotions and not do that. It took him some time until he could recognize the strongest one to be ‘love’.

He grinned into the kiss. Bookman would be rolling on his grave and screaming at him how much of an idiot he was. But he wouldn’t need to do that; he already knew how much of a fool he was. He was foolishly in love, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I just want them to be happy, deal with me.


End file.
